The Psychology of Emotion
by jessica-bones-winchester
Summary: Professor Barton AU - April meets an intriguing, sexy older man on a cruise just before her senior year of college begins. What will happen when they realize that, not only is she his student, but she's just been assigned as his T.A.?
1. Chapter 1

April reclined in a lounger by the pool, in the row farthest away from the commotion of the swimmers. Her large, floppy hat kept the sun from her face, and her sunglasses shielded her eyes as she read.

"Well, you're dressed for the pool. So, why are you back here reading?"

April glanced at the young man who sat next to her. He was probably about her age, not bad-looking, but not exactly her type.

"I'm dressed for sunbathing," she said, "and I enjoy reading."

"Oh, you're one of those, huh?"

She pulled her glasses down a bit to look at him.

"One of those? Intelligent? Well-read?"

"Uhhh… sure."

She pushed her glasses back up and returned to her book.

"So… a buddy of mine is having a party in his cabin tonight. Wanna come?"

"Not really my thing," she said without looking up.

"Look, you're hot. I'd love it if you came."

"Hey, kid, she said no."

April looked up at the new voice. An older man. Extremely good-looking. Water dripped from his hair and down his bare chest, and the muscles in his arm flexed from the towel he held onto, draped around his neck. He'd definitely been swimming.

"I was just—"

"Leaving. She said no."

The younger guy left without another word.

"Thank you," she said.

"No problem. You should be allowed to read your novel in peace."

"It's… not a novel, actually."

"No?"

"It's a biography of Hermann Rorschach." She held up the book so that he could see the cover.

"Oh, The Inkblots." He sat down on the lounger next to her. "That was a great book."

"You read it?"

"I did."

"I'm April."

She sat up and extended her hand. He took it, but didn't really shake it.

"Clint."

"So, you're interested in psychology?"

"You could say that. I take it you are, too?"

"Very."

"I think my favorite discovery from that book is that those guys had groupies."

"I know! Isn't that crazy? I thought only bands had groupies."

He shrugged "People like what they like."

"Very true." She sat her book aside. "So, I guess your wife is probably waiting for you somewhere."

Clint laughed. "Subtle. I'm not married."

"Interesting."

"Is it?"

"It is."

"How interesting?"

"I'm not sure. That might require more research."

Clint smiled. "I have a dinner reservation at seven tonight. How about I see if I can get that for two instead of one, and you join me?"

"That sounds great. Meet you at the elevator on that floor?"

"I'll be there." He stood. "Enjoy your book."

—

Clint was waiting for her when she stepped off the elevator. He wore a suit, but no tie. His collar button was open.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting," she said.

"Not at all." He extended his arm to her. "Shall we?"

She wrapped her arm around his, and they walked the short distance to the dining room.

Once they were seated, and ordered their food, Clint leaned in, arms folded on the table.

"What's your angle?"

"My angle?"

"I've got to be twice your age. You shot that kid down, but struck up a conversation with me pretty quick."

April smiled. "I happen to be attracted to older guys. Always have been. I'm also attracted to intelligence and maturity. That guy wanted to take me to the cruise version of a frat kegger."

Clint chuckled.

"Then a handsome guy, who knows stuff about psychology saves me, and… well, it's the last night of our cruise, and I'd like to enjoy myself."

"So, hold old are you?"

"Old enough to drink, if that's what you're trying to figure out."

Clint smiled. "What made you take the cruise?"

"I'm going into my senior year, and it's going to be crazy busy. I took one last shot at total relaxation."

"Senior, huh?"

"Yep."

"Ok. Look, I'm going to be completely honest here. I think you're gorgeous."

April blushed.

"But, real world… you're young. Once we're off this ship we'll go back to our own lives and you'll probably never think about me again. So, let's keep this simple. I'm Clint. You're April. No last names, no life details, no majors, no jobs, no family. Here and now. Clean break when the ship docks."

"Just enjoy each other's company while we have it?"

"Exactly."

"Ok. I can do that."

"Yeah?"

The waiter sat their plates in front of them.

"Yeah."

"Good."

After dinner they took a walk around the promenade deck. The moonlight glittered off the water surrounding them as they sailed back home.

"I've always been more interested in development than the disorders," she said. "Understanding how we become who we are is fascinating."

"True, but abnormal psychology fits into that. How does someone develop abnormal thinking and behavior?"

"Good point."

April stopped at the stern of the ship, and Clint stepped next to her at the railing. They watched the water churn in their wake.

"I've always loved the open water," she said. "It makes me feel small."

"You like feeling small?"

"It's humbling. It forces me to remember that there are bigger, greater things than me in the world."

"Is that why you like older men?" Clint smiled.

"Oh, you're good." She laughed, and turned to him. "It's a secure feeling. The experience of an older, mature man… I feel…"

"Protected."

"Yes."

"Safe?"

He gripped her waist and pulled her close.

"To an extent."

"Safe enough for me to escort you back to your cabin?"

She put a hand to his chest and stared up at him.

"I don't know. Will you stay close?"

"If you want."

"I want."

Clint smiled. "Lead the way."

They managed to simply hold hands as they rode the elevator to her floor. Once they were inside her cabin, his lips were on hers. She tossed her purse in the direction of the dresser, then wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"No one to interrupt us?" he asked against her lips.

"No."

He let his suit jacket fall to the floor, then pinned her against the door. His lips traveled along her jaw, to her neck. April buried one hand in his hair while the other gripped his arm. She pressed herself as close as she could get, enjoying the feel of his firm body against her, and his confident presence all around her.

Clint backed her toward the bed and lay next to her, hovering over her as they kissed. April unbuttoned two more buttons on his shirt before she stopped and let her fingers trail through the chest hair she uncovered.

He slipped his hand behind her knee and pulled her leg up against his side, grinding his hips against her. April gasped and squeezed his arm. Clint pulled back a little and pressed a kiss to her temple. His lips trailed down her neck and across her collar bone.

"Wait," she whispered.

He let go of her leg and brushed a thumb over her jaw.

"Something wrong?"

"I… I don't think I can…"

Clint buried his face in her neck for a moment, then rolled onto his back.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't be."

"It's just… I don't usually do this kind of thing. I was so attracted to you that I thought I could, but I—"

"Hey. Don't apologize. Truth be told, this isn't my normal thing, either."

"Really?"

He nodded. "You changed your mind. Nothing to apologize for."

April rubbed a hand over her face, then turned onto her side, propping her head up in her hand.

"Thank you."

Clint stared at her, then turned onto his side, mirroring her position.

"I'll just take the coldest shower of my life."

He smiled until April laughed, then he rubbed his thumb over her lips.

"May I?"

She nodded, and Clint pressed his lips to hers, tugging her bottom lip between his as he pulled away.

"I still think you're gorgeous."

He got up and collected his jacket from the floor. He paused with a hand on her door handle.

"Bye, April."

"Bye, Clint."


	2. Chapter 2

Natasha pulled her long red hair back into a ponytail and bit into her sandwich.

"It's nice to see you focused again," she said. "Two weeks of listening to you pine over that Clint guy was a bit much."

April scoffed. "I was not pining."

"Oh, please. You made me long for classes to start."

"I haven't been that bad," she said with a laugh.

"Ok. Maybe I'm exaggerating. But not by much."

"I have talked about him a lot."

Natasha nodded and took another bite.

"Well, that's all in the past. I have Professor Barton's class at one, then we have our T. A. meeting at two-thirty."

"I can't believe you landed his T. A. spot. All the psych majors wanted that, and no one's even met the guy yet."

"The mystery of a new professor with an excellent reputation."

"And you've already read the first two chapters, haven't you?"

"Well, I had to do something when I wasn't pining."

Natasha laughed. "You are such a teacher's pet."

"I do this for me, not the teachers."

April finally took a bite of her sandwich.

"This is good."

"It's the new deli down the street. I had them give you extra onions."

"You're lucky I can tell that's not true."

"What? Bad breath isn't a good first impression for the new teacher?"

"You're such a brat."

"You love me."

"That I do."

—

April was in her seat in the front of the auditorium at twelve-fifty. She read through the first chapter again while she waited, drowning out the chatter going on around her until a voice at the back of the room rose above all the others.

"Good afternoon. Please take your seats."

April sat up.

"I'm Professor Barton."

He placed his briefcase on his desk then turned, and April sank into her seat. She wanted to crawl under the desk and hide, but he'd swept his eyes around the room, and now they were on her. She saw the recognition in his gaze before he looked away, but he never missed a beat in whatever he was saying.

_Shit. Pay attention._

Face to face with Clint for less than two minutes and she'd completely lost her focus.

"So, with that in mind, I'd like to visit with each of you over the next two weeks during my office hours if you have any concerns at all about the syllabus."

He handed a stack of papers to the first person in each section. Why did she have to sit in the front? He held eye contact as he handed her the papers, but moved away quickly.

"We're going to go over this one paper today. That's it. I want you all to know what I'm looking for and how I grade. I've had professors who make you figure it out. I hated that when I was a student. If you know what I expect, you know what effort to put in. That works out for both of us."

He reviewed the syllabus and took questions fifteen minutes past the scheduled ending time before he released the class.

"Miss April…," he glanced at a paper from his briefcase, "Henson?"

_Damn it._ "Yes?"

"I know we're scheduled to meet in half an hour, but if you're free now, maybe we could knock this out early?"

She lifted her bag onto her shoulder. "Sure."

She followed him to his office without a word. The entire time, her eyes roved over his body. Was is possible he was even sexier than she remembered?

He stopped and opened his door.

"After you."

She kept her eyes on the floor until the were both inside. She sat as he walked around his desk.

"I swear I had no idea you were—"

He held up his hand, and she stopped talking.

"There's no way you could have known. The question is, how do we handle this?"

"I really need both this class and the T. A. position."

"Ok, then." He handed her a paper. "This is what I expect of my assistant. I rarely miss class, so you won't have to do any instruction. I like to pay personal attention to my freshman classes, so you'll only have to assist with the other levels below you. Grading papers, helping me organize and prepare class material, and helping me learn where I'm going… since I'm new here."

"Simple enough."

"Just so you know, there were no names on the applications submitted to me. Your grades are amazing, and the recommendations were very convincing."

"Thank you."

"So, the elephant in the room… we will be spending a good deal of time together."

She nodded.

"And I'd like to get out in the open right now that I've thought about you since the cruise."

"You have?"

"Yes. I'm telling you that so you understand that whatever we did before, and whatever thoughts we've had since—"

"Clean break," she said. "Like it never happened."

"That's the only way this will work."

"I agree."

He handed her a folder.

"These are my lesson plans for all of my classes. The ones you'll be specifically helping me with are marked. The others are for reference… just in case. Go over these this week. Get settled in your classes. We'll meet again on Friday."

She nodded, and stared at the folder.

"Something wrong?"

"No. It just might take me some time to move past the awkward."

Clint chuckled. "Just remember, before anything else, we connected over our love of psychology."

"That's true."

"So," Clint stood and walked toward the door, "we should be fine."

"Sure."

She reached for the doorknob, but he was already opening it, and their hands brushed.

"Sorry… that's the awkward I mentioned."

Clint smiled as he opened the door.

"I'll see you in class on Wednesday, Miss Henson."

"Thank you, sir."

—-

April was lying face down on her bed when Natasha came in.

"Uh oh. I haven't seen that position since the first day of sophomore year when you tripped down the stairs."

"This is so much worse," April said into her pillow.

"What happened."

"It's him." She sat up.

"Who's who?"

"_Him_… Professor Barton is Clint."

"Clint? From the cruise, Clint?"

"Yes."

"Woah. And you're his T. A."

"Yep. And he looks good. By some horrible twist of fate, he's hotter than I remembered."

"Well, it can't get worse than that."

"Wanna bet?"

"How?"

"He told me he's thought about me."

Natasha sat on her bed. "Seriously?"

April nodded. "We've agreed that it's all over, but, Nat…"

"You let yourself fantasize about him, thinking you'd never see him again."

She nodded. "How do I do this?"

"You're a smart girl, April. You'll get through it."

April groaned, fell back onto her bed, and covered her face.

—

Clint thumbed through the pages of April's application. He'd wanted this student for his assistant immediately. Her grades, her essay, her references. She was perfect. He'd felt the same way about April when he met her on the ship. She was smart, beautiful, easy to talk to, and more mature than some women he'd dated who were his own age.

So, of course she was his student. That was just his luck.

The clean break he'd wanted never happened. If he'd gotten her last name, he might have even tried to track her down. He dreamed about her more than once. Not only the kissing, but about their walk along the deck, and her admission of wanting to feel protected.

That made him weak. He always loved taking care of his girlfriends, and here was a gorgeous, intelligent woman who wanted to be on the receiving end, and he couldn't do anything about it.

Clint buried his face in his folded arms on his desk, and groaned.


	3. Chapter 3

April walked into Clint's class on Wednesday, determined to focus on the material. She'd read the first chapter again, as instructed by the syllabus, and was ready to go when he walked into the classroom.

She listened closely as he talked. He used his hands a lot. Punctuating words or ideas with gestures, both wide and subtle. She thought back to the feel of his hands on her when they made out.

"Miss Henson?"

_Shit. _"Yes?"

"Please give us a brief explanation of a developmental theory of emotion."

April sat up a little straighter and recalled her reading from the night before. She rattled off the explanation, and Clint's smile grew wider.

"Thank you, Miss Henson."

She nodded, and Clint resumed his lecture. She paid close attention through the rest of class, which seemed to end far too soon.

The students all packed up and rushed out, but Clint sat at his desk.

"Miss Henson, would you mind staying a moment?"

"Sure."

She finished packing her bag, but left it in her seat when she approached his desk. He waited for the room to empty.

"You were distracted," he said.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I just need you to pay attention."

"Wait… you called me out on purpose?"

"Yes. Something told me you'd know the answer. I wasn't trying to embarrass you. I just wanted to get your attention."

"Well, it worked. Thanks."

Clint stared at her until she had to look away.

"Is that all?"

"Sure," he said. "I do have some essays from my sophomore classes that will be due on Friday. Do you have plans Friday night?"

"Just homework."

"Would you mind meeting me to grade the essays?"

"Your office?"

"At six."

"Sure. I can do that."

"See you in class on Friday. Hopefully, less distracted."

He smiled at her until she smiled back and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Hopefully."

—

By some miracle, April managed to make it through her Friday class with minimal distraction. It took all of her focus, but she did it.

She rushed home, completed several assignments for her other classes, then freshened up a bit. She reached for her lipstick to reapply the long-worn-away color, and stopped. She was primping. Would she put on lipstick for any other professor? No.

_Strictly business._

She grabbed her backpack. It contained Barton's folder of class information, as well as her old psych class notebooks, just in case she needed to refer to something she didn't remember.

She knocked on his office door at five-fifty-five.

"Come in," he said through the door.

April went inside and closed the door. Clint was at his desk, sleeves rolled up, top buttons undone. She bit her lip to stop the groan that was forming in the back of her throat.

"Good evening, Miss Henson."

"Good evening, Professor Barton. Looks like you got started."

"I did. Have a seat."

She sat in the chair in front of his desk, and he explained the essay topic. Soon they were both engrossed in reading. After the first few, April rubbed at her eyes.

"Oh my gosh, are these all psych majors?"

"Not all of them."

"Thank God. This is…"

"Awful?"

"Yes."

"Most of them are. It's a first-week assignment. No one's really sure yet what I'm looking for."

"So, should I be going easy?"

"Not at all. Grade for accuracy."

"Got it." She made a few marks on the page. "I really hope I never gave my professors this kind of mess."

"From what I've seen of your grades, you didn't."

She smiled with a slight blush on her cheeks.

An hour later, Clint pulled her remaining essays from her.

"I can finish these. I don't want to keep you here late."

"Isn't it part of my responsibility as your T. A.?"

"Technically."

She grabbed the papers back with a flourish.

"I don't usually turn in for at least four more hours, so, I'm good."

"All right. Just don't blame me when you're dreaming of mediocre essays tonight."

—-

April sat in the crowded cafe at a table in the corner. Three weeks into the semester and she was finally finding her groove between classes and being a T. A. Her fingers flew across the keys of her laptop. Her big paper in Professor Barton's class had been assigned. She would have the rest of the semester to work on it, and no spare minutes would be wasted.

"Mind if I sit down?"

She glanced up into the eyes of the man who was her biggest distraction. Clint stood there with a cup of coffee and a briefcase. He wore a baseball cap, and the glasses she'd grown to find incredibly sexy on him.

"Uh… sure."

She gestured to the empty chair and shifted a couple of books to give him space.

"Thanks. All the other tables are taken, and I didn't feel like chatting up some stranger." He sat and pulled some papers from his briefcase. "Homework?" He nodded toward her laptop.

"It's my paper on the Polyvagal Theory."

"You've already started?"

"I don't procrastinate. I don't do well with last minute pressure, so I like to finish things early."

He took a sip of his coffee, and read through some of his papers. Freshman tests that he insisted on grading himself. He removed his cap and ran his fingers through his hair. She paused and stared through her lashes, not willing to look up. If she made it through the rest of the semester, it would be a miracle.

Half an hour later he checked his watch and packed up. To his credit, he hadn't tried to engage her in conversation, respecting her time working.

"Grading all these tests I'm way behind on some other assignments," he said. "Would you mind coming to my place to help out tonight?"

"Your office?"

"No… I thought I could order some food. We can eat dinner and get right to work."

"So, your… place?"

He put his cap back on. "Would it be weird?"

"No. No, I guess it's only weird if we let it be weird."

"Good. I'm just off campus." He pulled a notepad from his briefcase, jotted down his address and slid it to her. "Six o'clock?"

"Six o'clock."

—-

Clint spent the rest of the evening cleaning up. He didn't think April would enjoy sitting on a sofa full of discarded shirts, or sitting at a table covered with papers.

_What were you thinking?_

He wanted to spend time with her away from campus. That's what he was thinking.

_Stupid._

T. A.'s spent lots of time with their professors, both in the office and in homes, if necessary. So, it wasn't an inappropriate request, but he knew his intentions weren't exactly pure. He wanted to be able to enjoy her presence without the possibility of interruption.

She knocked on his door just before six.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi." He hesitated, taking in her hair, pulled over her shoulder. "Come on in."

"So, what's for dinner?"

"Right. Pizza?"

"That works for me."

"Great. I'll get that ordered. Why don't you have a seat on the sofa?"

She nodded.

Clint followed her to the sofa while he ordered the pizza through an app on his phone, then he sat. April put her bag on the floor, picked up a paper, and began to read.

"Woah," Clint said, "you're just diving right in."

"I thought you were backed up?"

"I, uh… thought we could hang out a bit first. Until the food gets here."

"But if you're that behind on grading assignments—"

Clint felt the heat rise into his face, and he couldn't suppress the smile.

"I may not be as behind as I let on."

"Oh. Then why not do this at your office?"

Clint blew out a breath. "April… do you think about me at all?"

Her face turned bright red, and she looked away, so he had his answer.

"I think about you," he said. "A lot."

"Um… sir, I don't think—"

"I know we agreed this had to be professional, but sometimes it's hard. Especially when you call me 'sir.'"

Her eyes darted back to his, and he moved a little closer to her. He rested his arm along the back of the sofa.

"Professor Barton—"

"That's almost as bad as 'sir,'" he said with a chuckle.

April fought a smile. "Is this really a good idea?"

"Probably not, but can you honestly tell me you haven't thought about me?"

She shook her head. "I just about drove my roommate crazy talking about you after the cruise."

"Yeah?"

She took a deep breath. "Yeah."

Clint cupped her face with his hand and tugged on her bottom lip with his thumb.

"We'd have to keep it quiet. At least until you graduate."

"Are we really considering this?"

He tilted his head and leaned closer.

"I don't know. Are we? I can't make the decision for you."

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "Can't you?"

"What?"

She opened her eyes to his furrowed brow.

"Remember why I like older guys? The safety. The authority."

"This is a huge decision." He brushed his thumb over her cheek. "You have to make this one. Maybe I can take over after that?"

Clint smiled, sure she would back away and turn him down. He knew asking her to do this, to be in a relationship that could get both of them thrown out of the university, was beyond absurd. Yet, here he was.

April leaned forward, hesitated for a brief moment, then pressed her lips to his.

A shiver went down Clint's spine. He had been sure he was about to get rejected. Instead, she was kissing him.

Clint took her face in both hands and deepened the kiss. He trailed the backs of his fingers across her cheek, then brushed her hair back from her shoulder.

"This is better than I remembered," she whispered between kisses.

"It's almost better."

She pulled back, concern on her face. Clint smiled and lay her back on the sofa. He pulled her leg up next to his side and kissed her neck.

"If I remember correctly," he said as he kissed up her jaw, "this is a more accurate recreation of that night."

April ran her fingers through his hair. "Much more accurate."

She hooked her foot around his leg, allowing him to loosen his grip and let his hand roam. He slipped his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt, and she trembled. His fingers trailed higher, and she giggled until she squirmed.

"I'm sorry," she said through her laugher. "I'm ticklish."

Clint groaned. "Of course you are."

April frowned. "Is that…"

"Adorable? Yeah."

April laughed, and pulled him into another kiss. They stayed that way until the doorbell rang.

Clint pulled back with a groan.

"Pizza's here."

She nodded, and he helped her sit up.

"You still sure?"

"That I want pizza?" she asked. "Yeah, I'm sure."

She smiled and Clint chuckled.

"You know what I mean."

She brushed her thumb over his cheek.

"I'm sure, Professor Barton."

Clint groaned. "You're lucky the food's here."


	4. Chapter 4

"How do we do this?" April asked.

"Well, I don't think there's a right way, but most people start with the pointy end and work their way to the crust."

April smiled and shoved his shoulder.

"Not the pizza, you idiot."

"Oh, so familiar, so fast?"

She shrugged. "It's always been easy talking to you. Even when it was awkward."

"It is easy, isn't it?" He shoved a large bite of pizza into his mouth, and waited a while before speaking again. "Obviously, we can't date like a normal couple. No movie theaters, or restaurants."

"Right. And we can't go to my place."

"Dorm."

"And roommate."

"So, any time we do spend together will have to be here."

"Or your office?"

He shook his head. "We have to make boundaries. Anyone could catch us anywhere on campus."

"Got it."

He sighed. "I actually have a faculty party this Friday night. Someone's retiring, I think."

"So, I'll be able to work on my paper."

Clint smiled at her. "So diligent."

With a hand to the back of her head, he pulled her forward and into a soft kiss.

"Is that a turn on, _Professor_ Barton?"

"On you? Absolutely. Your passion for the subject was one of the things that attracted me to you on the ship."

"Oh, yeah?" She smiled.

"Oh, yeah."

She ran her finger up his arm.

"What was the very first thing that attracted you to me?"

He exhaled. "The very first thing…. your legs."

"My legs?"

"I met you at the pool, remember?"

"I remember."

"With your sunglasses and your hat, I couldn't see your face, but your legs were stretched out, ankles crossed, and your feet were pointed like a ballet dancer."

"That's a lot of detail, _Professor_."

"You keep calling me Professor that way, I won't be responsible for what I do."

April pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Your turn," Clint said. "What was the very first thing that attracted you to me?"

"You were shirtless and dripping wet."

Any hint of a smile slipped from Clint's face. His lips crashed into hers, and he pushed her to lie back on the sofa. April wrapped her legs around him as he settled on top of her. His hand slipped under her shirt, caressing her more firmly than last time, to avoid tickling her. He kissed down her neck until she moaned his name, then he pulled back.

"What's wrong?"

"I was just thinking… you stopped this on the ship."

"When it was a one-night-stand. Is this a one-nighter?"

"I don't want it to be."

She traced his jaw with her finger.

"But," he said, "I also want you to be sure."

"I'm sure."

"April—"

"Clint, I'm sure."

"We're both running on lust, here. Let's take a step back."

"How far back?"

"How about we get vertical, first?"

A smile pulled at his lips, and April laughed. She nodded, and Clint pulled her back up to sit.

"Now what?"

Clint pressed a soft kiss to her lips, then rested his forehead against hers.

"We'll have a real date. Tomorrow night. I'll make dinner. Unfortunately, I can't pick you up."

"That's ok," she said. "Dinner sounds nice."

"Good." He nuzzled his nose along hers, then pulled her back into a kiss. "We should get back to work."

"Work?"

"The papers?"

"Oh… right. I forgot."

—-

Natasha came into the room while April put the finishing touches on her makeup.

"Whoa! Where are you going?"

April hesitated. She didn't want to lie to Natasha.

"I have a date."

"With who?"

"No one you know. He's in one of my psych classes."

"Nice. Glad to see you're not worrying over the professor anymore."

"Nope. No more worries."

But was that true? She no longer had to worry about keeping it professional, but dating him would raise a whole new set of worries.

Natasha plopped onto the edge of her bed.

"Oh my gosh. It's him."

"What?"

"Your date. It's him. Barton."

April's jaw dropped open. "Are you crazy?"

"Oh, please. You have that same look on your face every time you talk about him."

"I don't—"

"Don't lie to me, Henson."

April sighed. "You can't tell anyone, Nat. I would get kicked out and he would get fired."

"Do you think I'd tell? I think it's great! You've been pining over him long enough."

April sighed. "Thank you."

"Plus, you were right. He's hot, for an old guy."

"He's not old, Nat!"

"Ok, fine… older."

April shook her head and stood.

"I have to go. Don't want to be late."

"He's not picking you up?"

"What part of 'kicked out' and 'fired' don't you get?"

"Ohhhh. So, this is a secret thing?" She smiled.

"Yes. Very secret."

"Forbidden love. I like it."

"I'm glad you approve."

—

April rang the doorbell and smoothed a hand down the front of her skirt. Clint took one look at her and froze. His eyes wandered down her body.

"Is that what you wore to dinner on the cruise?"

"You remember?"

"You looked amazing then, and you look amazing now."

April blushed, and Clint stepped aside to let her in. Once the door was closed, Clint took her hand and drew her into his arms.

"You're beautiful."

She blushed and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Hungry?"

She nodded, and he led her to the table. It was set with two plates, hers to his left, and candles lighting the area.

"Clint… this is…"

He stepped behind her and kissed her neck.

"I want to give you the best that I can."

He pulled her chair out for her to sit.

"I'll get the food." He kissed the top of her head. "Be right back."

He set down bowls of pasta, then poured a glass of red wine for each of them.

"This looks delicious."

"So do you."

April let out a surprised chuckle and blushed bright red. Clint sat and took her hand.

"Did I embarrass you?"

His fingertips played with hers before he laced their fingers together.

"Just… surprised me a bit."

"Sweetheart, you are going to have to get used to me telling you how much I want you. How gorgeous you are." He brushed his thumb across her chin. "How absolutely amazing you are."

She lowered her eyes, but he lifted her face until she looked at him again.

"Can you do that for me?"

"Yes."

Clint smiled and kissed her.

"Let's eat."

After two bites, April was moaning.

"This is so good."

"Glad you like it."

"You actually cooked this?"

"Wow… I'm offended!"

April laughed. "Sorry, you just didn't strike me as a guy who cooks."

"You're not wrong," he said with a smile. "This is my one dish."

"Well, it's amazing. I'll need a nap after this."

She took another bite, and savored the flavor.

"My paper is coming along well. I wanted to run something by you, though."

"Not tonight. No work. No classes. We're on a date."

April smiled. "Ok. So… what do we talk about?"

"Where'd you grow up?"

They talked all through the meal, getting to know each other better. They talked about music and film, and hobbies they'd had through the years.

"I don't have much time for hobbies now," she said.

"Same here."

She played with her napkin as silence filled the room. Clint stood and gathered their dishes. When he returned from the kitchen, he turned on a floor lamp and blew out the candles. With one hand on the table, and one on the back of her chair, he leaned down and kissed her. His lips barely touched hers, teasing as she tried to press more firmly.

"You still feel like you need a nap?"

"I'm suddenly awake."

Clint smiled. "Good."

He took her hand and pulled her to her feet, but didn't kiss her. Her eyes fluttered as he brushed his thumb over her cheek, and he leaned in.

"I want to finish what we started on the cruise."

He pressed a soft kiss below her ear, and she shivered. She nodded, not sure she could find her voice.

Clint pulled back and smiled.

"I want you."

He slipped his hand around her waist and down her rear. She gasped at the gentle squeeze.

"Can I have you?"

With both hands on her bottom, he pulled her closer, and rolled his hips against her.

"Take me."

For a split second, April wondered if she said the words aloud, or if they were just in her head, but then Clint kissed her. He cupped her face in both hands, holding her close, barely breaking contact when he changed the angle of his head.

After a moment, he took her hand and led her upstairs to his bedroom. He slowly removed her dress, then let her remove his clothes before he lay her on the bed and pulled her legs around his waist.

He kissed the tip of her nose, then along her jaw to her ear.

"I want to make you feel so good, sweetheart."

She moaned. "You're on the right track."

Clint chuckled, and traced his fingers down her chest.

"I'm going to enjoy this." He rolled his hips against her. "So are you." His nose nuzzled along hers. "I promise."


End file.
